


He Should, But He Isn't

by rex101111



Category: Guilty Gear
Genre: Bitterness, Gen, Millia is just fine with this, Sad Ending, borderline character bashing?? maybe???, for Zato at least, this is an attempt to be sympathetic to a character i don't care for give me a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26903083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rex101111/pseuds/rex101111
Summary: Millia quits. Zato reflects. Life, unfortunately, moves on.
Relationships: Millia Rage & Zato-1
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	He Should, But He Isn't

**Author's Note:**

> i made a challenge for myself on tumblr where people would send me character they don't like and I would try to write something that would make them care, I only got like two asks and this is my fav result so here you go!

Millia doesn’t so much hand in her resignation as she slaps it down on the table nearly hard enough to crack the wood. The sound echos loudly and lingers in the air, getting stuck on the tension between them for a long minute before finally dissipating.

What she actually handed in was a small knife, the symbol of the assassin’s guild etched on the handle. Every member got one when they finished their training. It was never meant to be used on a target. To accept that knife was to accept that the only life you had belonged to the guild, and to leave it meant returning what wasn’t yours.

Venom lost his during his fight with Bedman, Zato lost his around the same time he died (he asked Eddie if he remembered where it was, no such luck), and now, Millia relinquished hers.

She was young when she finished her training, a teenager, but the knife gleamed as it sat on the table, spotless. (Eddie is his eyes, but he exaggerates, though he knows better than to do that with with Millia.)

“I quit.”

A lifetime ago, those words would have thrown him into a rage, ripped a hole in his chest. Now, there is nothing but a dull noise in his head as he hummed, “I see.”

She’s quiet for a moment, but he can hear her clenching her hands and let out a breath through her nose, “do you want to know _why?”_

He was dragged back into this world without the ability to want _anything_ , a chess piece for the Conclave and then Slayer to play around with. But something told him he _should_ want to know, he _should_ want to ask her why she would leave, leave the guild (leave _him_ ), after all the effort she made in becoming leader of the guild alongside him. 

He knows he should _want_ to know, but he doesn’t, there is a void where that desire should be. A yawning pit where a heart should be breaking. But there is nothing.

“Do you want to tell me?”

A moment passes, a moment where she closes and opens her mouth, in conflict with herself as to what answer she should give, before she sighed, “I heard what you did for Venom.”

He pauses for a moment. “Venom is-”

“Dead.” She says, voice stone-like and dismissive. “Of course he is. Dead and running a bakery. Best of luck to him.” A growl leaves her, and he can almost see the scowl twisting her face. “You think I’m that easy to fool, Zato?”

She is many things, easy to anger, easy to annoy, but fool? “No, of course not.” There’s no admiration in his voice, although there should be. He places his hands on the table and intertwines his fingers, hoping they might tighten on their own. “What does Venom have to do with this?”

“The assassin's life belong to the Guild, to the leader.” Again, that clench of fingers, that twist of the lip, that scowl in her voice, “to _you.”_ He hears her lean forward and put her hands on the table. He thinks she expects him to flinch away, but he doesn’t, can’t, give her that pleasure, so she sighs and continues. “Whether or not you acknowledge it, you had power over Venom, over his entire _life.”_

 _“_ I let him go.” His voice doesn’t strain, his shoulders don’t bunch up in outrage, he simply states the truth. “He has been freed to live as he wishes.”

“On _your_ terms.” She says, a hint of disgust creeping in. “You found him, _you_ gave him that bakery, _you let him go_ **on your terms.”** That last phrase left as a snarl, and she paused to take a breath to regain control. “You had all the power there, but not now, not here.” Another growl, triumphant in its bitterness. “Not with _me.”_

Zato, who does not lose control, for he has no control to lose, does not raise his voice and does not scream. And he does not want to scream, though he thinks he should. Instead, he nods. “I see.” He hears her lean away and turn on her heel, but she doesn’t walk away just yet. “You wish to be free, then?”

“I wish _nothing,_ I _am_ free.” She turns to face him again, hands straight at her side and chin held high. “I _have_ been free, for years now, free from the guild, from _you,_ this is just me paying you the courtesy of catching you up with the rest of us.”

He should-

Should-

Anger-Sadness-Outrage- _He should be feeling-_

Nothing. Nothing at all. No response at all.

“I will _not_ be leaving as you wish it.” Millia continues. “I am co-leader, so whatever decision I make has no need to go through you.” She begins to walk away, her voice resolute and offering no room or option for debate. “You will not follow me, you will not track my movements, and, if there is any mercy in the world, for either of us, we will never cross paths again.”

She puts her fingers on the door handle, begins to turn it, metal pins squeaking-

“Do you hate me?”

This is the question he should ask, should _want_ to ask, but the want is not there, but it should be, he does ask, and she hears it, and she stops.

“Do you hate me, Millia?”

She should, after all the things he did, the things _she_ did, after all that blood and betrayal spiraling between them, enough to fill two lives ten times over, _she should hate him._ If he cannot feel hatred for her leaving, if cannot feel sorrow at the one person that could effect him removing herself from his life, then at least. At _least._

_At least she can feel-_

“No, Zato.” Her voice is calm, weightless, and she does not turn her head to look at him as she speaks. “I do not hate you, not one bit.” 

She opens the door, walks past the threshold, still she does not look at him.

“…why would I?” She turns to him, and Eddie refuses to tell him about the look in her eyes. “Why would I hate a corpse?”

She closes the door, the sound that should be a thunderclap, an explosion in the room, is nothing more than a soft click of the lock getting back into place.

He sits on that chair, with his hands on the table, his fingers intertwined but not clenched, for a very long time. Long enough for someone to knock on his door, “Lord Zato?” It is 2cave, he sounds concerned, but doesn’t open the door, “I heard about Lady Millia…are you alright?”

He shouldn’t be.

“Yes, I am.”

He isn’t.

“Don’t worry about it.”

But it doesn’t matter.

“…As you say, Lord Zato.” Echoing footsteps, and then silence again.

Eddie lashes out, grabs Millia’s knife, and crushes it like a piece of scrap metal. 

Zato, feeling nothing, places a hand on his head, and Eddie calms, his own anger falling into Zato’s void and utterly failing to fill even an inch of it.

“No need for that,” He says calmly, as Eddie slowly sinks back into his shadow. “No need at all.” He raises from his chair, and leaves the room, opening and closing the door just as softly as Millia did. “Hatred is wasted on corpses.”

The scraps of the knife stay uncleaned on the floor for days before someone dares to clean it while Zato is away.

He sees the room where nothing of Millia Rage remains, and feels…feels…

…well, what _should_ he feel?


End file.
